


blessed be the peacemakers

by longdeadredemption



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha Arthur Morgan, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, M/M, Omega John Marston, unnamed marston daughter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24225445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longdeadredemption/pseuds/longdeadredemption
Summary: Arthur Morgan was in no way a God fearing man. He recalls twice in his life he dared speak to God; the first, the night John went into labor, hours before he heard his daughter cry, and the last, the night they had to bury her."People like us don't always get to live the way we want to, son."Dutch had never been so right.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Kudos: 49





	blessed be the peacemakers

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry. this will be sad and i am sorry, but it does get better.
> 
> warnings; there is a death of a child soon after it is born and i am sorry. it was based off of something in the first red dead redemption game, where john mentions he had a daughter that died, but never a name, and i thought, perhaps she didn't live long enough to have a name. i am really sorry.

Arthur Morgan was in no way a God fearing man. He recalls twice in his life he dared speak to God; the first, the night John went into labor, hours before he heard his daughter cry, and the last, the night they had to bury her.

  
_"People like us don't always get to live the way we want to, son."_

  
Dutch had never been so right.

* * *

A sharp whistle had his horses ears pricking up to attention, a soft nicker in response to the gentle pat on his mane to soothe him. The bark he hears echoes through the camp before the mutt that always lingered around them comes darting between the stallions hooves and nearly earns himself a bucking off his back.

  
"Dumb dog." Arthur grunts, but there's still a bit of a smile on his face as he dismounts and grabs at his satchel to offer the dog a treat- the foot from a recently skinned rabbit. Maybe he might've kept it if he was one to care much for luck, but doesn't seem, and watches when the dog takes off with the foot in his mouth to go chase after one of the kids- Abigail's boy.

  
Arthur had been with Dutch for years, and someway, they had made it as far as they did without getting caught. Maybe it was stupid for some of them to settle down; always living with something hanging over their head, but still managed to make the best of life.

  
"Why would I want to live in a city where people treat folk like nothin' more than meat? I've got a family treatin' me just fine right here." Tilly had spoke confidently when he asked the ladies one day why they were so intent on staying, starting a family, to really become a pack.

  
Mary Beth seems all too happy to see Arthur come into camp, and he remembers what he promised before he last left; digging into his satchel to hand her a small bar of chocolate. "Y'know, we ain't much for riskin' our necks just to go buy somethin' sweet." Arthur comments with a gentle tip of his hat, a chuckle vibrating in his chest when she blows him a kiss and calls him a saint.

  
The one that catches his eye first is the one sitting at the fire, trying his hand at wood carving, with his hat laid in his lap and all too close to cutting a finger off as he whittles away at a branch.

  
"The hell you makin'?"

  
The noise that greets him is a slightly annoyed one, but it welcomes him all the same.

  
The log John sat on is big enough for two, and the omega moves over just enough to give Arthur room to sit, as long as he leans so he isn't toppling back down into the dirt. No matter what anyone said about omegas, they were stubborn as hell, especially John.

  
"A gun. What's it look like?" His voice is dripping with sarcasm as he holds out something he might have worked a little too long on if the redness of his hands is any tell, the wood shavings tossed into the fire as fuel as he hacks away at what used to be such beautiful nature.

  
Arthur isn't sure how to answer.

  
"A horse?"

  
"A dog, Arthur."

  
The snort that follows earns him a shove to kick him off the log, but he knows better than to scold him right now for being so hostile.

  
The thick swell of his belly under his shirt has grown lately, as fall bleeds into winter, the nights growing colder and every day being closer to seeing their pup. John doesn't say much to ever let it show that he was worried, but Arthur notices how often he tries to take his mind off of it anyway he can.

  
One thing he had taken up was trying to make toys.

  
John was one of the most poorly mannered omegas in america, and Mary Beth often had to smack him over the head anytime he tried to mend old clothing and only succeeded in staining the cloth with blood when he stabbed his hands with the needle.

  
The rag-doll he poorly tried to sew together had fallen apart, and Tilly promised to fix it for him, but he had already decided his talents were most likely used elsewhere.

  
John lets out a low growl as he carves at what is supposed to be a small figure of a dog- something that started to appear a bit more deformed anytime he swipes at it, before hands wrap around his back and rest gently on his stomach. The scruff of Arthur's beard drags across his neck and makes him shudder as his glands are nosed at, making no attempt to smack away the man that hums as he stares at the scarred skin that proved their bond.

  
"Our pup's going to love you just fine, toys or not."

  
Arthur promised to get them anything the pup would need, but John ended up keeping it anyway.

* * *

  
Arthur wouldn't let go of that damn toy.

  
He wasn't sure what he would have done if John had simply tossed it in the fire that night- maybe he would have gone mad and burst into the tent that John was led into when he suddenly went into labor-far earlier than expected.

  
It's late winter when John is hit with the pain that leaves him on his knees- their pup wasn't supposed to be with them until the spring, when the air was warm and they weren't being tracked down by every lawman in the state, and the stress of it seemed to be weighing heavily on John.

  
Hosea, the pack omega, Tilly, and Miss Grimshaw are the only ones allowed in the tent to help him.

  
"You'll only cause more trouble, Arthur." Miss Grimshaw had been blunt as she kept him back before Charles and Bill could drag him far enough away.

  
He found the carving in John's bag back in their own sleeping tent, and didn't know what possessed him to settle down enough to spend the hours leading into a bitter night sanding and oiling the ugly thing.

  
He feels it's the most he can do in that moment for John and their pup, and when it's finished, he drops his hat in his lap and stares into his hands. He hadn't heard anything from anyone about John, and his cries had started to die down long ago, or maybe he just began to drown them out.

  
"I know I ain't ever done much to deserve this," He begins, speaking to no one but himself in a voice so quiet he doesn't recognize as his own.

  
"John probably ain't either. But this pack, this family-" His gaze shifts to the slit in his tent, watching the flicker of the flames dying out as heavy snow falls and the few wandering around are bringing blankets and water to and from the other tent.

  
"They're all I have. Don't take them away from me. Not yet."

  
He finally lets himself breathe when he hears the sharp cry, and the cool air breezes into his tent when Tilly comes in to get him, a smile bright on her tired face.

  
"Come meet your little girl, Arthur."

* * *

  
She didn't last past her first night.

  
The snow hadn't shown any mercy on the baby born too soon. So tiny, all too small in Arthur's hands and skin too pale, her lungs weak and they hoped desperately just to hear her cry more, but she drifts off to sleep that night and doesn't cry again.

  
"She wasn't in pain, John. It wasn't your fault- it was just her time." 

  
Miss Grimshaw's words give little comfort to John once Arthur goes out to dig in the snow, a cross laid out for a grave too small, too soon.

  
John doesn't say anything to him, or at all, not once she's buried and Dutch and Molly are leading him back to another tent to rest.

  
Hosea stays behind to watch Arthur place the wooden dog in the dirt and bury it with her, no words to be said as he offers a gentle hand.

"Life just ain't fair sometimes, Arthur." He should know. He lost Bessie and his own child years ago, and Arthur wonders why he doesn't see that pain in his eyes as he feels it now.

  
He says one more prayer that night after he rides into town and heads into a church.

  
"Watch over her." He commands, before he puts back on his hat, and vowed to never set foot there again.

**Author's Note:**

> comments keep me motivated <3
> 
> (i did not forget my other work, i am still working on it, just needed some unnecessary angst! if im being honest, i made myself sad writing this.)


End file.
